


Correlation

by Nununununu



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Din's initially unimpressed on meeting the man who turns out to be Cassian Andor - at least in a certain sense, and especially when he realises about the droid.His feelings on this might come to change.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & Din Djarin & Cassian Andor & K-2SO, Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cassian Andor/K-2SO
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Correlation

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which the Mandalorian becomes the child's caretaker before Rogue One takes place. Includes prejudice towards droids.
> 
> Three times Din and the child encounter Cassian and K-2SO.
> 
> (Update: edited for a couple of sentences that strayed out and edited one word out of the summary)

Din regains consciousness to the fact his visor isn’t working.

His helmet’s not off though, which is reasonably surprising. His hands are bound behind his back – which is not – and his feet lashed at the ankles. He’s propped against whatever he’s been tied to, so he’s sitting half slumped. Whoever it is wants him alive then, if they’ve paid enough attention to ensure he didn’t swallow his tongue.

“I know you’re awake,” Something kicks his foot. Someone’s boot. Just like everything else so far, it could be much worse.

Din doesn’t see that there’s any need to answer. Still, there’s also no real need for him to ignore.

“What did you do to my visor?” He might as well start with that; it’s not as if whoever it is doesn’t know he can’t see. He can’t remember much of the lead-up to this – a dimly lit passageway between some non-descript buildings and a job to be done; a flash of durasteel. He’d reached for his blaster –

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” It’s a man’s voice. Low and calmly unemotional, rather than emotionless. It wouldn’t be unpleasant to listen to under different circumstances.

Knowing it will go unseen, Din narrows his eyes.

“You had a droid doing your dirty work,” He’s certain of that much, “Where is it?” Not in the room? The thought of it silently watching what’s happening is –

No.

There’s a pause. Not long, but enough for Din to tense under his armour. Still, the irate reaction he expects to identify in the man’s voice when he continues is absent.

“Who are you working for?”

It’s ridiculous how he’s almost disappointed.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” He’s not about to betray either the guild or his most recent client. Din angles his head towards the voice, “You?”

“The one asking the questions.”

It feels equally ridiculous to contemplate the possibility that there’s a touch of boredom there too; it's like they're reading a script.

The man hasn’t left Din any of the weapons he can reach with his arms behind his back, even so; evidently aware enough of Mandalorian armour to find the secret catches and compartments made to look like nothing at all, in addition to the more obvious ones. Presumably everything else he carries on him has been removed as well.

Damn.

“I have –” He works his jaw, disliking the necessity of the admission, “An obligation. Release me.”

It’s a fair warning – that or he’ll release himself by force. No point in instigating a fight if he doesn’t need to though and the other man has missed no few opportunities by now.

He presumes he’s supposed to notice this.

“I have an obligation as well,” There’s a thread of coolness in his captor’s voice that wasn’t there before; this is the first point when Din starts to consider that the other man actually might classify as something approaching dangerous. “But you’ve answered my actual question.”

Gritting his teeth, Din swallows any reaction beyond this that he might have.

There’s the faint sound of cloth moving – the other man standing – and then quiet but deliberately audible footsteps, followed by a louder rustle, carefully indicative of someone crouching down.

In front of him. Near enough to grab, if Din could free his wrists. Taking a controlled breath in, he touches the end of the binding he’s all but unfastened between gloved thumb and finger.

Waits.

“There,” The light touch to the side of his helmet makes him recoil, even as he simultaneously stifles the converse impulse to lunge forwards and smash his head into the other man’s.

There’s the sound of a small mechanical something detaching - presumably some sort of custom-made signal blocker - and his captor draws back.

“It’ll work again shortly. There’s a lock on the door with a keycode; you should be able to break it. I’ve had someone keep watch over your – bounty – downstairs.”

Din’s stomach clenches at the implication. The child should be safely back on the ship –

Of course. The kid followed him. That droid he’d seen when the pair ambushed him – _it_ has the kid, doesn’t it. And that 'actual question' along with the reason Din was targeted –

_Fuck_.

“He’s unharmed,” There’s a sigh in that voice, as if Din had betrayed his sudden alarm by cursing out loud. Something more human about it too, “Eating soup from the inn next door, last I saw.”

Why the _hell_ would he believe that?

“ _Imp_ –” Din has no hope whatsoever of hiding the fury in his voice. Snapping the last of the binding around his wrists, he tears through the one holding his ankles together, launching up to his feet even as his visor blinks on, startling after being darkness.

The room is blandly featureless; one of any of the planet’s countless boarding houses. He’s alone.

Bafflingly, his weapons are in the next room.

The child is, as promised, perched on a chair downstairs, emptied bowl in his hands and his face covered with soup. The last of the liquid comes back testing negative to any poisons or other drugs, and the kid beams when Din ruffles the wispy hairs on that soft head.

“You got anything to add on the situation?” He scours every room; comes back gratingly with nothing. No sign of the man or the kriffing robot; only the remains of the bindings. Local issue; no information to be got from them – or his helmet, when Din checks for anything as convenient as prints.

“Buh,” The kid doesn’t shrug, but it’s close.

\--

The next time Din catches a particular flash of durasteel, he’s already swinging, Amban rifle coming up instantly.

The KX unit collapses, the hole in its chassis smoking, while another one, appearing behind it, tilts its head in a manner that looks frankly offended.

“Well, _that’s_ rude,” The thing sounds it too.

Din is fairly tempted to say something rude in return. Instead he just prepares to fire a second time.

“Don’t even try,” _There’s_ the voice, the one he was expecting; still cool but with notably more emotion in it this time.

“Not nice when someone threatens something important –” He can’t quite hide his derision, for all he keeps his tone flat, “– To you, is it.”

“I,” Annoyingly, the droid appears entirely unimpressed at being on the other end of Din’s rifle, “Am not an ‘it’.”

“He’s not an ‘it’,” The man provides at the same time. The blaster pressed against the side of his neck under his armour prevents Din from catching the sight of him. A scan returns the fact that his former captor turned quarry is organic – which Din already knows – a human male – which he also knows – fairly average in stature and someone who should be easily reckoned with.

Frustratingly, his instincts inform him otherwise, and not just because of the droid.

The droid’s still a problem, though, and the man’s reaction as good as a confirmation of Din’s remark.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t fire.”

“Because it wasn’t a threat – and if you do, _he_ will also fire,” Bizarrely, the droid rolls its optics. Din narrows his eyes behind his visor.

Still, it’s preposterous to think of the thing in terms that imply it’s either somehow sentient or _alive_.

“I suppose programming an Imperial droid into being under your command must be to your advantage,” He comments to the unseen man as he shifts his thumb in readiness against the tiny and highly illicit control he’s stitched inside the lining of his glove.

“Why have you been tracking us?” The man demands in place of an answer, although the blaster’s shoved harder against his neck – that struck a nerve.

“I reprogrammed myself,” The droid snorts, but Din ignores it.

“Did you truly think I wouldn’t?” He asks of the man.

“I suppose I thought it might not be personal,” This is almost certainly as much a lie as it is truth.

“Do you want me to check the bounty on your head?” Din enquires.

Nothing personal, indeed.

He gets a huff of a near silent laugh in response, the darkness in it audible. Not a friend to the Empire then, although – despite, or perhaps even somehow _because of_ , the droid – he already knew that too.

He has his theories about who this man is, of course. There’s no need to say as much though.

And the bounty wouldn’t be small. He could use the credits to get a decent supply of stuff for the kid. The Empire would kill the man, of course.

Eventually.

“Don’t,” Seemingly sensing something, perhaps in Din’s stance, the droid telegraphs its intention to wrap durasteel fingers around the rifle.

Emotion flares in him at the reminder of the strength of those hands.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Jerking back despite the blaster at his neck, Din returns tightly, a little less level than he would like. He’s not quite sure when his aim at the droid dropped from lethal to semi-lethal, but it’s easy to fix.

“Let’s just – not,” The man is saying though, something in his tone changed too, and he must signal at the droid, for the thing retreats just enough for Din to swing the butt of his rifle back, aiming at the man’s solar plexus even as he’s certain the blow will miss.

Sure enough, the man’s already evading. Din gets a glimpse of him – dark, carefully unremarkable clothes; dark, carefully unremarkable face, although the facial hair is surprisingly distinctive for someone who’s more and more likely a Rebel spy – and then the droid is protesting, even as Din ducks down a side road and hastens away.

His thumb is still on the control in his glove. He could have disabled the droid with the pulse that pressing it triggers. He could have used any of his other weapons on it; on the man.

The man himself could have used the poison he no doubt carries in the ring Din caught sight of in that glimpse – or any of the weapons he, too, undoubtedly possesses.

Little as he likes to consider it, the droid could have taken Din down while his partner stood and watched. Or Din could have blown a hold in the thing’s chestplate, just like he did the other KX.

Could have. He should be thinking _should_ have instead.

Can’t explain why he – or they – didn’t.

\--

“Take him,” Spotting the familiar face – as it were – Din holds the child out hastily in the KX’s direction, hating the fact it’s necessary even as he does. Swallows his pride as he changes his grip on his blaster, “Please.”

“What do you expect me to do with him?” The droid has the gall to complain.

“K, I’ll take him,” The other man – Cassian Andor, indeed of the Alliance and indeed a spy – appears seemingly out of nowhere to scoop the child out of his partner’s arms, one hand bringing the kid securely in near to his chest, the other hand holding his blaster. He nods at Din, “Go. We’ll cover you.”

“We will, will we?” Muttering, the droid rolls his optics.

Din would profess he doesn’t need the assistance with the kid, but that’s obviously not the case, given he's already had the little one do his utmost to fling himself into danger multiple times due to the fight that's broken out despite Din's efforts to keep him safe. And he needs both hands to shut things down as quickly as possible as fresh troopers arrive.

“You're making yourself a target,” He belatedly warns Andor, who shrugs.

It’s possible that, by this, Din also means thanks. He plunges back into the fray.

Given the hectic nature of the battle, it takes him a few minutes to realise that the droid is, in fact, fighting beside him – a fact made obvious when the reprogrammed KX grabs Din’s most recent opponent and bodily throws them away.

“Huh,” For whatever reason, Din shoots the idiot trooper who decides to come at the droid next, then kicks away the grenade that would have killed them both, “Don’t expect me to thank you.”

He might be grateful, but he’s not going to tell the droid about it.

“I don’t,” A helpful blaster bolt from Andor removes another Imperial intent on taking out his partner as the KX sniffs. Din’s alert to the sound of the kid clapping his hands.

There’s a distinct change to the atmosphere of the fight, as they continue wading through troopers and assorted guild members all after the child. The droid – no. Andor had called it ‘K’. Called _him_ ‘K’, presumably a shortening of his designation.

“You been with him long?” Din finds himself enquiring as he ducks a blow before returning one of his own, and lets the droid make of the question whatever he may.

“Long enough.”

He gets an assessing look for it, he’s certain, despite the immobility of that metal face plate. For some reason, the thought makes Din grin just faintly.

“Don’t worry,” An entirely uncharacteristic impulse to provoke has him say, “I’m not after your boy.”

It’s irritatingly pleasing to hear the droid stumble.

“I’m not – He’s not –” Hearing him stutter is irrationally satisfying, too. K recovers seconds later, shooting Din an aggrieved look even as he bashes two troopers’ heads together.

Din can only hope Andor is overhearing this. The man’s still taking down their opponents from not that far away; there’s a startled huff from him when the child evidently gets in on the action, a group of bounty hunters and troopers both flying to one side before landing in a tangled heap.

“Did you know he could do that?” Andor demands, sounding reasonably impressed, the fight from then on turned firmly in their favour.

“Yes,” Din should be snatching the child back away from him at the first instance, and yet –

Someone shoots at Andor; he swings away, shoulder turned towards the blast. Protecting the child instinctively rather than immediately taking cover or returning fire, even as the droid nearby lets out a tut of disapproval.

K also smashes the person responsible into a wall, seconds before Din can shoot them. Thankfully while Andor still has the kid facing in the opposite direction.

“Given your insistence on allowing yourself to be shot at, you might want to consider a form of armour of your own someday,” The droid informs Andor afterwards, intent on patting him down ostensibly for signs of harm.

Staring seemingly stoically into the middle distance, Andor weathers this, although Din notes his throat work, not as unaffected by this as he’s making out. Din’s –

Din’s not as horrified at the thought of them being – well, _partners_ – as he probably. Well.

As he probably should be. Although –

Although _should_ sounds wrong. _Is_ wrong, when it comes down to it. Because yes, one of them is a droid. But –

But K is clearly self-aware and making his own decisions; Andor isn’t his master and has never appeared to be ordering him into anything.

And ultimately it’s none of Din’s business.

“Here,” He holds his hands out for the child, unable to fully quash his smile when the kid immediately stretches out his tiny arms in return, “Thanks.”

“I thought you weren’t going to thank us,” K pauses in running his hands over Andor long enough to observe.

“Thanks,” is all Andor echoes in return, sounding genuine about it, softer voiced than usual and with a little heat on his cheeks Din wilfully ignores. The glare the man shoots up at the droid is decidedly half-hearted when K resumes his pat-down, as is his following hiss, “Quit it, Kay.”

Din hears it then; the way Andor – Cassian – says the letter like a name.

“I have no intention of stopping unless you genuinely want me to,” There’s a smirk in Kay’s response, to which Cassian makes a muffled noise that still fails to contain an actual protest.

“Mm,” Nestling against him, the child settles contently back into Din’s arms.

“Yeah,” Shaking his head a little, Din agrees as he turns to leave the pair to – whatever it is they’re leading up to, “Let’s head back to the ship.”

“We – might see you again?” Cassian asks abruptly, as if he doesn’t intend to, a query that’s uncharacteristic and unguarded enough that Din pauses to glance back at him.

He’s looking unexpectedly young; not much different in age to Din himself. He’s also holding hands with the droid. With Kay.

Clearing his throat, Din looks away only to look back again moments later. Because they’re –

Well.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call either of them friends yet. But not enemies, not any more. Not for a while now. Comrades, perhaps.

“Where are you going next?” Stepping back in closer so they won’t be overheard, Din therefore cautiously enquires. Perhaps –

Cassian shakes his head very slightly – he can’t say, “Perhaps afterwards.”

It doesn’t escape Din that he fails to commit. Still –

“Afterwards then,” He lowers his chin in a nod and Cassian does likewise.

“May I?” Kay hesitates before reaching out towards the child. He thinks, perhaps surprisingly, to glance first at Din.

“I – suppose,” Din’s back stiffens a little despite his best intentions, Cassian’s gaze going intent as if he can see right through his visor.

“Mm!” The kid has no such hesitation, perking up and reaching a tiny hand out to the droid in return at once, potentially on the lookout for more soup.

Considering the way he bounces up and down in Din’s arms as his little fingers curl around much larger metal ones – and the plethora of local wildlife the kid helped himself to as an earlier snack, before the guild members or troopers turned up – Din suspects that soup isn’t the reason.

“Hmm,” Despite himself, Din can’t help but relax somewhat again, as much as he ever does; Cassian’s dark eyes softening visibly as well.

And so both men stand there watching while droid and child consider one another, fingers joined. Then Kay nods just once and withdraws, as if he’s come to some conclusion, the child stuffs his tiny fist whole in his mouth on a happy noise, and something much like a smile flickers across Cassian’s face like he can’t just help it.

It’s just possible that, under his helmet, the same happens on Din’s.

It seems foolish to believe they’ll run into these two again, despite the times fate – or the Force, perhaps – has seen fit to prompt this to happen so far. Yet –

Yet somehow, with their potential arrangement cautiously agreed upon, it seems like they might have a chance.

Nothing anywhere near as much as a certainty, but a hope.

A month and a half later, in the middle of pursuing a lead about the child’s people in a far-off quadrant of the galaxy, Din hears rumours through the guild concerning a Rebel mission to Scarif.

_Fin._


End file.
